


Back to Middle-earth Month 2019

by Nath



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nath/pseuds/Nath
Summary: A collection of the stories and vignettes I wrote for B2MEM 2019 -
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. The Forging of Andúril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come to reforge the Sword of Elendil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Forgery: Andúril

“Bring the shards of Narsil,” Elrond had told Estel when he asked him to join him, and here his foster son was, carrying the worn scabbard that had so long protected the shattered heirloom.

“It is time to remake the blade,” Elrond said. “Come.”

Estel only nodded as he walked with Elrond to the smithy. He had schooled his expression, and the surface of his thoughts, to utter solemnity, yet Elrond still felt Estel’s joy at the prospect of Narsil remade.

~*~

As one of the smiths took the scabbard from Estel and shook out the shards on his work table, Elrond remembered the day those same shards had come to Rivendell.

_The two young Dúnedain had come over the High Pass on foot and a patrol had found them and brought them to Imladris._

_“What are your names?” Elrond asked. They looked familiar, but he could not put names to them right then._

_“Master Elrond, I am Nolondil, Isildur’s esquire, and this is Marach. I…we bring ill news.” The young man who had spoken tightly clutched the bag he carried before he went on. “Master Elrond. We’ve been…last autumn…the King’s party was ambushed by Orcs—if no word has reached…” He paused._

_“Alas, word of the ambush has reached us, but naught of Isildur’s fate after he escaped the attack is known.”_

_“My lord escaped? Then he may yet live?”_

_“We hold to that hope.” Elrond did not say that that hope hung on but the slenderest of threads by now, though come the fullness of Spring the search would be resumed._

_Nolondil nodded and took out a wrapped package from his bag, and opened it to reveal the shards of the sword of Elendil. “Then this should go to the keeping of prince Valandil or the Queen.”_

~*~

“We will return for the final part of the work,” Elrond said as Calion, the smith, picked up the shards to melt them down.

“If you must,” Calion replied gruffly.

Estel was reluctant to leave the smithy but came at last when Calion told him that watched pots do not boil and he had been working iron since before Imladris had been there, and he knew what he was doing.

~*~

Estel snorted in amusement as he followed Elrond back to the house. “I was five years old the first time Calion sent me out of his smithy. Some things do not change.”

Elrond laughed. “Had I attempted to linger, he would have sent me away as well. He has never liked anyone to watch him work, but we shall come back later.”

~*~

One of Calion’s assistants was still working, but soon finished engraving the last of the seven stars that were traced on the renewed blade.

As Elrond watched Estel’s eyes gleaming in the low light of the forge, he saw in his mind’s eye Elendil, Narsil raised against the Enemy—and the sword breaking as he fell. He suppressed a shudder, but knew that it was but memory, not foretelling.

Estel stirred, and Elrond tore himself from his reminiscences—the days of Elendil, and Isildur and his sons, were long-gone, even if Estel seemed at times the very image of Isildur’s son Elendur who had fallen in that fateful ambush.

Elrond stepped forward to stand beside Calion’s assistant. “I will myself put the runes of protection on the blade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> The names Nolondil and Marach for Ohtar (which is a rank, ‘warrior’ or ‘soldier’, rather than a name) and his companion are of my own invention, and previously used in my story "The Boys Who Lived."


	2. The Black Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle before the Black Gate ends, Elladan looks for Aragorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aragorn falls before the Black Gates

Elladan gritted his teeth and looked away from the broken and mangled bodies, beaten into the mud by the trolls that had overrun them, to where Elrohir sat, cradling his shattered sword arm. He started towards his brother, but Elrohir waved him off.

_My arm can wait. Find Estel._

~*~

_All eight Nazgûl dive for the hill on which they have made their stand and the first few lines of men scatter and break. Once the wraiths are gone again, the men attempt to reform the shield wall that is their outer defence, but the waiting hill-trolls are too fast into the gaps._

_Elladan darts forward to stab at a hill-troll with his long spear, and quickly back again. The troll falls, but two others take its place almost immediately. He holds off one, but the other ignores him and presses on against two Rangers._ They are trying to get to the standard, and to Aragorn, _he realises abruptly_.

_He catches a glimpse of Elrohir jumping in to aid the Rangers, but has to keep his attention on his own opponent. Hill-trolls are hardly bright, but they are single-minded and strong, and dangerous enemies._

_Even so, he stumbles when he feels a sudden sharp pain and a wordless shout of agony from his brother. Only at the last does he evade his own troll’s stone club and turns a fall into a lunge forward that ends with his spear lodged in the troll’s neck. He scrambles up and tries to pull his spear back out again, before the next troll is on him._ Curse it, stuck!

_Then, a shout from Mithrandir._

The Eagles are coming!

_The onslaught halts._

_Confusion._

_From the North, the Eagles bear down on the circling Nazgûl._

_The armies of the West start to push forward, until Mithrandir calls upon them to wait._

_The earth trembles._

_The Black Gate crumbles, and the shadowy image of Sauron rises to tower over them, but is blown away by a great wind._

~*~

Elladan turned back towards the hillside.

In between the bulky troll bodies lay Rangers, Gondorians, Rohirrim. Further away, the living turned back towards the hill, but for now Elladan was alone. And…

He rushed forward.

A black cloak, covered with silvery broidered lines, over the slumped form of a man.

Elladan dropped to his knees and reached to turn over – _let it not be him…_ but he _knew_ as soon as he touched the man’s shoulder. Slowly, he turned him over.

Sightless eyes stared up at him from a pallid face covered in mud and blood.

_Aragorn_.


	3. Arathorn lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 3018 - Arathorn waits for Aragorn's arrival in Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Arathorn, father of Aragorn, never dies  
> Rivendell - Others who live there  
> Weather and climate - "Adventures are not all pony-rides in May-sunshine."

**3018, October 18 - Rivendell**

“Have you heard anything new?” Bilbo looked as anxious as he sounded.

Arathorn shook his head. “We can only wait and hope for news. Master Elrond will surely tell you when he hears anything.” It had been over a week since those with the strength to face the Nine had ridden out from Rivendell. _I wish I could have gone with them, but I’d stand as little chance against the Nine together as the men at Sarn Ford._

The hobbit did not answer. He drew on his pipe, not noticing it had gone out, and went back to gloomily staring west.

“Do you hear that?” he asked abruptly. “Someone is coming!”

Arathorn had also heard the signal. Bilbo looked eager and anxious both. “Go on, and find out if there is any news.” _I don’t hear a rider, so most likely no news from Glorfindel or any of the others who went out. And if it is, I’ll find out soon enough._

Once Bilbo was gone, Arathorn stood up and went inside, but then turned back and headed for the archery field to watch the Elves at practice. _I don’t need to see a map to know the dangers Aragorn may have taken those hobbits into. He cannot go south into the Angle, not with Black Riders on his trail, so if he’s not on the road, he’s gone north._

Several hours later Bilbo found him once more.

“Gandalf is here,” the hobbit started. “He didn’t find Aragorn or Frodo and the others on the road.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“That was all he would tell me before he went to talk to Master Elrond,” Bilbo replied. “But there’s also a group of Dwarves from Wilderland coming over the High Pass, I heard. They’ll be here by mid-afternoon. I’ll go and see if Gandalf will tell me anything new after he’s spoken to Master Elrond.”

**3018, October 20**

Arathorn rubbed at his temples, attempting again to clear the headache that had plagued him the whole day. _Something is about to happen._ It was now getting late and the tension had only grown. _Is it what little foresight I have, or merely knowing that the Enemy’s servants are out there hunting Aragorn and the hobbits? And with the wizard seeing no sign of them on the road, they must indeed have gone north into the hills._

After a few hours he went into the gardens for some fresh air. _It may ease my heada…What is that?_ A deep rumble, felt more than heard almost – _from the mountains? No, it’s to the west… the river?_

He headed towards the front of the house. Any news would come there first. _And_ something _must have happened. My headache is gone._

“Master Elrond has released the river,” someone said as Arathorn came up to the stairs leading to the main entrance.

_The river! But what… the hobbits, Aragorn!_

“Arathorn! Do you know what is going on?”

_Bilbo!_

“No, I don’t.” He sat down on the stairs, well to the side. _I want to rush out there, but what good would it do? It’s hours to the Ford on foot_. “We can only wait,” he told Bilbo.

As the daylight faded, Master Elrond also came outside. As he walked towards the stairs, he gave a quick nod to acknowledge the hobbit and the man, then stopped and stood, listening.

Arathorn stood up as he too heard something. _That’s a rider! And with those bells, it has to be Glorfindel. And he’s in a hurry._

“Is that Glorfindel?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, it is,” Arathorn responded as he tried to see more, and caught a glimpse of the rider’s golden hair. _And in front of him? Som…a hobbit!_

Master Elrond ran towards Glorfindel, who had quickly slid off Asfaloth’s back. He carried the hobbit in front of him as Elrond spoke to him urgently.

“It’s Frodo!” Bilbo dashed off after the two Elves who had already disappeared inside.

 _My son is still out there_ , Arathorn thought as he watched Asfaloth making his own way to the stables. _Even a horse knows what to do, whereas I can still do nothing but wait. And on foot with three hobbits it’ll be hours yet before he gets here. I…_ “Bellas! Is there any news of Aragorn, or the other hobbits?”

The Master of Arms came over. “Only that they made it across the river and are on their way here. It’ll be some time yet, though.”

“Thank you.” Arathorn sat down again. _Even ten years ago I would have gone out to meet them halfway_.

Arathorn had little idea of how much time had passed, but eventually his son, his worn green cloak pulled close around him, walked into the courtyard, along with several Elves who were carrying three hobbits.

Then Aragorn tripped and nearly fell over the first step up from the courtyard. Arathorn quickly moved forward and was alongside Aragorn to support him up the stairs and into the house.

Elladan moved in to take Aragorn’s other side, and together they quickly had him in his room and put to bed.

“He came close enough to the Ringwraiths that he may feel some effect of it.” Elladan spoke softly but urgently as he led Arathorn to the door.

“I see.” Arathorn’s reply was equally soft. He had of course known the Black Riders had been pursuing Aragorn and the hobbits, but that they had been that close!

Elladan nodded. “I will stay and watch him, in case his sleep is troubled.”

“Even with one eye, I’m still not so decrepit that I cannot sit and watch over my own son,” Arathorn said sharply. “You should see if your father needs your help with the hobbit.”

“Elrohir is the healer of us two,” Elladan said with a weary smile. “But I can undoubtedly be of some use carrying and fetching water, or some such service.”

“Undoubtedly,” Arathorn replied with a grin of his own, as he walked back over to pull up a chair and sat down to watch while his son slept. For all Elladan’s disavowals, he was skilled enough in healing, and Arathorn knew Elrond would be glad of his help.

 _The hobbit Frodo is in the best of hands with Master Elrond looking after him,_ Arathorn thought _. The waiting will be hard on Bilbo though. Hopefully he’s not waiting in vain… But if Frodo did indeed carry the One Ring – and he must have, or else why would the Nine pursue him so eagerly? – does he still have it now, or did the Wraiths gain it off him?_ He shivered at the thought of the Enemy regaining It. _But no, had they taken the Ring, they’d have taken Frodo, and neither Aragorn nor Glorfindel would have been_ here _. But enough of such thoughts!_

**3018, October 21**

Aragorn barely stirred all through what was left of the night, and Arathorn slowly nodded off as well, only waking when the light of day had returned. His son was still asleep, but as Arathorn slowly stood up to stretch his legs, Aragorn’s eyes opened and he was instantly alert, quickly taking in his environment.

 _Ever the Ranger_! “Did you sleep well?”

“Did Frodo get here?” Aragorn asked in return, yawning widely.

“Glorfindel brought him hours before you arrived here. Master Elrond is looking after him.”

Later that morning, Arathorn made his way deep into Rivendell’s valley. Beyond the house and its outbuildings and fields there were wilder lands where one might wander undisturbed, and the sound and sight of many rivers and waterfalls to ease the heart.

He had eaten breakfast together with his son, then watched as Aragorn rode off with Elladan and Elrohir to hunt for what trace of the Black Riders they could find. _At least he ate before he left. I might wish he wouldn’t drive himself so hard, but if I was any younger, I would have joined the hunt myself._

Arathorn shook his head and took a narrow path up to a rocky place that gave a wide view over much of the valley towards the mountains. _Whatever the patrols that have gone out may find, and whatever will be decided about the Ring, this is the calm before the storm breaks_. He took a deep breath and leant against a gnarled old tree, its trunk a welcome support for his back. _And when the storm breaks…_

**3018, December 18**

“Father?”

Arathorn looked up from his book.

“Father, I will travel with the Fellowship when they depart Rivendell.” Arathorn said nothing, and Aragorn went on. “I still intend to go to Minas Tirith with Boromir as we talked about before, and Master Elrond will have Narsil reforged before our departure.”

Arathorn nodded his approval. “If not now, then when?” He had known this day would come since Elrond’s Council, when Boromir had first spoken the words of the dream that had led him north.

Aragorn looked relieved at his father’s answer, but he did not speak, looking down instead.

“My son.” Arathorn sounded more stern than he had intended, and Aragorn looked at him anxiously until Arathorn smiled. “This is your hour, and I cede it to you gladly. When you leave, it will be with my blessing, whether your road leads to Gondor or elsewhere.”

“Thank you, Father.” Aragorn spoke softly. “I cannot deny that my heart longs for Gondor, but the road south is long, and much may happen. The hobbits do know by now that adventures are not all pony-rides in May-sunshine, but they will still need protection and guidance for as long as the Fellowship can offer it to them. My first duty will be to the Quest.”

“Of course.”

“Yet, I would not leave the Dúnedain leaderless in these dark days.”

Arathorn gave his son a questioning look.

“Father, if you… would you stand as Acting Chieftain once again?”

“Yes, of course,” Arathorn replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three chapters are the stories I wrote during B2MeM; I still have a bunch of prompts to be written left, so expect this to be added to at random intervals...


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